The takedown of one of the world’s most wanted men sent shockwaves across an entire nation — and left hundreds of U.S. tourists stranded with nowhere to run.

She had packed her bags. Rebooked her flight. Done everything right.
But Katy Holloman, a California woman vacationing in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, wasn’t going home. Not yet — and possibly not tomorrow either.
“The road is closed due to the cartel,” she said in a video posted to social media, her voice steady but her eyes carrying the weight of someone who genuinely didn’t know what came next. “There are no flights going out of the airport to the States. Just going to pray we make it home tomorrow.”
It was Sunday, February 22, 2026 — and Mexico had just changed overnight.
The Kill That Lit the Fuse
Early that morning, in the small Jalisco town of Tapalpa, Mexican military forces surrounded and engaged Nemesio Rubén Oseguera Cervantes — known to the world as “El Mencho” — the 53-year-old iron-fisted boss of the Jalisco New Generation Cartel (CJNG). Wounded in the firefight, Oseguera Cervantes died en route to Mexico City. Four others were killed at the scene.
The White House confirmed the U.S. had provided critical intelligence support to the operation. U.S. Deputy Secretary of State Christopher Landau called it “a great development for Mexico, the US, Latin America, and the world.”
For the cartels left behind, it was a declaration of war.
Within hours, CJNG members began a coordinated rampage across western Mexico. Buses were torched on main avenues. Highways were blocked with burning vehicles. Businesses were set ablaze. Reports of gunfire emerged from inside Guadalajara’s international airport, sending panicked passengers scrambling for cover. Mexico’s Security Cabinet confirmed more than 250 cartel-erected roadblocks spanning 20 states — from Jalisco and Michoacán to Guerrero, Baja California, and even resort destinations on the opposite coast including Cancun, Tulum, and Playa del Carmen.
Jalisco Governor Pablo Lemus Navarro declared a state of “Code Red,” urging all residents — local and foreign — to remain indoors. Schools across multiple states shuttered their doors. Guadalajara, a city of millions, became a ghost town by nightfall.
Tourists Caught in the Crossfire
For the hundreds of American visitors who had chosen Puerto Vallarta as their winter escape, the paradise turned into a prison in a matter of hours.
The U.S. State Department issued an urgent advisory urging American nationals in Jalisco, Tamaulipas, Michoacán, Guerrero, and Nuevo León to shelter in place immediately. Air Canada, United Airlines, and American Airlines all cancelled or suspended flights to Puerto Vallarta and Guadalajara, stranding travelers with no clear timeline for departure.
Daniel Smith, a visitor from the Palm Springs area of California, shared footage of himself evacuating a building as propane tanks exploded nearby. “We’re evacuating — propane tanks have exploded,” he said breathlessly in a video clip that spread rapidly on social media.
Holloman, who had rescheduled her original flight and was hoping to leave the next day, tried to find calm in the chaos. “I guess it’s time to unpack the suitcases and put the swimsuits back on,” she said with uneasy humor. But behind the joke was a sobering reality — she, like hundreds of others, was completely at the mercy of events unfolding far beyond her control.
Who Was “El Mencho”?
To understand the scale of the retaliation, you have to understand the man who was killed.
Nemesio Oseguera Cervantes was not merely a drug lord. He was, by most accounts, the most powerful criminal figure freely operating in Mexico — and one of the most dangerous men in the Western Hemisphere. Born in Michoacán in 1966, he later moved to the United States, where he was convicted in California in 1994 for heroin trafficking. After serving his sentence, he returned to Mexico and — in a twist that still stuns observers — worked briefly as a police officer in Jalisco before returning to the criminal world.
From those roots, he built the CJNG into a global trafficking empire, moving methamphetamine, cocaine, and fentanyl into the United States at a scale that made his cartel one of the primary drivers of America’s overdose crisis. The U.S. DEA had a $15 million bounty on his head. He had been indicted multiple times in Washington, D.C. His organization was designated a Foreign Terrorist Organization by the Trump administration in early 2025.
For years, he evaded every attempt at capture.
Sunday ended that run.
What Comes Next — and Why It’s Complicated
The killing of El Mencho is being celebrated as a historic law enforcement victory. But security analysts are quick to temper the celebration with a harder truth: taking out a cartel’s top boss rarely ends the violence. Often, it starts a new chapter.
“There is no obvious successor,” Al Jazeera’s Mexico correspondent noted Sunday. “His brother is in a U.S. prison. His son, El Menchito, is also in prison. As is his daughter. We could now see different regional bosses start disputing for power — just as we saw when El Chapo was arrested.”
That internal power struggle could mean more violence, not less, in the months ahead. Analysts point to the post-El Chapo period as a cautionary tale: the arrest of the Sinaloa leader eventually ignited a bitter civil war between rival factions that contributed to some of Mexico’s bloodiest years.
Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum, who has long expressed skepticism about the “kingpin strategy,” nonetheless applauded her security forces and called for calm following Sunday’s operation. Many observers see the move as a calculated signal to Washington — demonstrating that Mexico can deliver results through intelligence cooperation without requiring U.S. boots on Mexican soil.
“Ever since President Sheinbaum has been in power, the army has been far more confrontational and combative against criminal groups,” noted David Mora of the International Crisis Group. “This is signaling to the U.S. that if we keep cooperating and sharing intelligence, Mexico can do it.”
The Morning After
By Sunday evening, Mexican authorities reported that most of the 250-plus roadblocks had been cleared. Federal reinforcements — National Guard units and army battalions from across the country — were deployed to Jalisco and surrounding states. A fragile calm began to settle over the hardest-hit areas.
But for tourists like Katy Holloman and Daniel Smith, calm felt relative. Flights remained cancelled. Roads were still uncertain. And the CJNG — even leaderless — remained one of the most armed, ruthless criminal organizations on earth.
“This is unprecedented,” Holloman said, echoing what hotel staff had told her. “They said this has never happened before.”
She unpacked her suitcase. Put on her swimsuit. And waited.